


Relief

by LadyGaGalion



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Community: hobbit_kink, Gang Rape (implied), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4383566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGaGalion/pseuds/LadyGaGalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To scream is a form of relief. Thranduil believes he doesn't deserve any relief. </p><p>Written for the following Hobbit Kink prompt: "Thranduil is defeated in the battle and Azog decides to have his way with the elvenking."</p><p>*This focuses more on the mental anguish Thranduil experiences, but it is quite graphic nonetheless. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relief

Thranduil would not scream. 

To scream is a form of relief. For the moment that it lasts, it eases whatever torment is racking one's body or heart. And Thranduil didn't deserve that relief.

In his stubbornness and greed he had led his army to its demise. He had left his kingdom all but unprotected. Those who had remained at home would likely suffer the same fate as his soldiers. Any help they might request from the other realms would not arrive in time. 

Thranduil was bound, his hands tied behind his back, and held facedown on top of a pile of corpses. These were the cold, lifeless bodies of fallen Elves—his people, whose welfare it had been his duty to ensure. Ironically, they were the lucky ones, slain in battle. The few who had survived had been divided among large groups of Orcs and violated, brutally, over and over again. Even now, as his leggings were pushed down his thighs, he could hear the weak, pained cries of those who had not yet entirely lost their will to endure. 

Legolas had been among the unlucky ones. Azog had forced Thranduil to watch as Bolg tortured and defiled him. Legolas, his beloved son, who in all his years had never experienced love in the arms of another because Thranduil would not approve of any union, had instead found his end in the clutches of a foul creature of Morgoth. And even then he'd been concerned only for Thranduil. "Do not despair, Adar," he had said right before it happened, all the fire he had left in him blazing in his eyes. "I am not afraid."

No, Thranduil didn't deserve even the briefest escape from his pain. He had no right to scream. 

He was only vaguely aware of Azog's taunts, hearing the fell voice as if he were underwater. Tears fell freely from his eyes, soaking the bloodstained cloak of the fallen Elf beneath him. Soon he would pass on to the Halls of Mandos and be reunited with his son, his wife, and his adar. He didn't know how he would ever be able to face them. 

Thranduil nearly cried out when Azog penetrated him with a swift, cruel thrust. He could feel his walls tearing around the monstrous length as the burn spread all the way to his core. His thighs quivered involuntarily from the pain, but he managed not to make a sound. A satisfied, dark laugh erupted above him, and it made his skin crawl. 

The second thrust was worse. Pain shot all the way through his limbs, and he began to shake as beads of sweat formed on his face. It felt as if he were impaled upon a sword. Something wet was trailing down his inner thigh; he knew it was his own blood. The Orc adjusted its grip on his hips, rough fingernails cutting into his skin, and drove forward again, sooner than Thranduil had anticipated, harder than before. 

Thranduil would not scream.


End file.
